Chapter 13

“You did not write it,” I say.

“Belle, wait—”

I stumble to my feet, avoiding her eyes as I try to gather myself into some semblance of grace—some cloak of false dignity that will prepare me to meet the sea of hungry eyes outside. “You didn’t write it. I’m sorry, Your Majesty—sincerely, I apologize. I should never have imposed.”

The Queen is shaking her head. “No…”

“Belle, wait.” Jana grabs my wrist.

I pull myself free, rather more forcefully than necessary, backing away from her as if she might burn me. The skirts of the Queen’s gown are an engulfing tide. As I try to escape, I set my foot wrong, and look down in horror to see a black footprint on the white silk. “I’m sorry,” I choke, “so sorry…”

The Queen’s eyes are wide, and shining with tears—another crime for which I’m accountable. Unable to look at her longer, I flee from the alcove.